But if the sense of touch whereby mankind Is propagated seem such dear delight Beyond all other, think the same voutsaf't To Cattel and each Beast; which would not be To them made common & divulg'd, if aught Therein enjoy'd were worthy to subdue The Soule of Man, or passion in him move.

What higher in her societie thou findst Attractive, human, rational, love still; In loving thou dost well, in passion not, Wherein true Love consists not; love refines The thoughts, and heart enlarges, hath his seat In Reason, and is judicious, is the scale By which to heav'nly Love thou maist ascend, Not sunk in carnal pleasure, for which cause Among the Beasts no Mate for thee was found.

To whom thus half abash't ADAM repli'd.

Neither her out-side formd so fair, nor aught In procreation common to all kindes (Though higher of the genial Bed by far, And with mysterious reverence I deem) So much delights me, as those graceful acts, Those thousand decencies that daily flow From all her words and actions, mixt with Love And sweet compliance, which declare unfeign'd Union of Mind, or in us both one Soule; Harmonie to behold in wedded pair More grateful then harmonious sound to the eare.

Yet these subject not; I to thee disclose What inward thence I feel, not therefore foild, Who meet with various objects, from the sense Variously representing; yet still free Approve the best, and follow what I approve.